


The Waters of March

by merisunshine36



Category: Social Network (2010)
Genre: F/F, Genderswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-11
Updated: 2011-05-11
Packaged: 2017-10-19 06:18:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/197874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merisunshine36/pseuds/merisunshine36
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even in the beginning, the relationship between Edie and Mark was less like a partnership and more like a constant tug-of-war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Waters of March

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this](http://tsn-kinkmeme.livejournal.com/6467.html?thread=11616835#t11616835) kinkmeme prompt, and featuring girl!Eduardo and girl!Mark. Title stolen from [this song](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g3oNSFQVzNM).
> 
> Disclaimer: None of the characters here belong to me, alas, alas.

Mark registers the warm tendrils of Edie's breath right up against her ear before she even realizes someone is talking to her.

“Mar-ciiiii-a,” is all she says, but somehow makes it sound like a complaint and an endearment all at once. She drapes her arms over her girlfriend's skinny frame, and Mark can feel the laughter as it vibrates up from Edie's ribcage and all throughout her body. Edie is always laughing, it's like her default setting.

“Don't call me that,” Mark says. “Only my Aunt Ethel calls me that.”

Edie snaps both straps of Mark's rather utilitarian bra, which is the only thing she's wearing besides a pair of faded old boxers with a hole in one of the seams. Edie tried to throw them out once, claiming that they were infected with some kind of disease, but Mark rescued them at the last moment so that they might live another day. They're soft and worn and sit just right on her hips, the elastic falling below the curve of her tummy in a way that doesn't make her skin look pinched and angry in the morning.

“I wanted to get your attention. Finals are over, and Dustin and Chris and everyone are out having a good time trying to get shitfaced enough that they don't have think about whether or not they failed anything. And yet, you remain chained to thefacebook. It will still be here tomorrow, Mark. I promise.”

“But I am having fun. This _is_ my fun.” Mark frowns and looks up over the frames of her glasses to squint at Edie. She's dressed in the uniform of all ambitious young Econ students, a button-down shirt and dark slacks like she thinks her ability to click through the Ann Taylor website will impress her professors more than her understanding of the prisoner's dilemma. Mark doesn't mention this, however. The one time she did, Edie didn't speak to her for a week, and Mark was forced to turn to Dustin for advice. _Dustin_.

Edie wiggles into the space in front of Mark's computer screen and drops down into her lap. It's an awkward fit, as Edie is built like the subject of a Modigliani painting, all long curvy lines that are not quite in proportion to one another.

Edie leans forward, and their combined weight makes the chair tilt backwards a little. Mark tenses at the thought that they might fall over, her hands going immediately to grasp at the slight indentation of Edie's waist. She's so warm, like she carried all of the heat of Miami and Brazil up north with her. That is a stupid thing to think, but Edie has that kind of effect on people. She makes it hard to focus, to think clearly. Mark is not sure how she feels about this.

Edie takes advantage of their proximity to press tiny kisses on Mark's neck, the lightly freckled sweep of her shoulder, the corner of her mouth. She hums a little in the back of her throat, happy to finally have achieved her evil aim of separating Mark from her code. Unfortunately, Mark's traitorous hands go along for the ride and start making quick work of the thousand buttons blocking her access to all that tanned skin underneath. But another part of Mark wants to ask her to stop just for a minute. Her battery is dangerously low, and if she has to re-do the last hour's worth of work she's going to be more than a little irritated.

“Stop worrying, I plugged it in when you weren't looking,” says Edie. A fringe of messy hair hangs down into those big brown eyes of hers. She cut it short back in October, hacking it all off after a particularly disastrous dinner with her father during Parent's Weekend. But already its reasserting its dominance, fighting past any number of hair clips to do exactly as it pleases.

“It's important,” Mark huffs, indignant. Sometimes she wonders if Edie will ever really get it. She thinks thefacebook is a fun pet project, but it's not. It's so much more than that. It's the future, all wrapped up in perfect code and clean blue and white lines.

Any further protests Mark might have made are cut off by Edie's mouth, which is warm and a little bit chapped, and a whole lot of perfect. She tastes like the strong coffee that's she's practically lived on these past few weeks. Mark sighs a little as Edie's tongue slides against her own, the soft pads of her thumbs coming up to massage delicate circles into the base of Mark's skull in a way that makes her go boneless with pleasure.

Mark's hands slide down inside the waistband of Edie's tailored wool trousers until she can hook her thumbs around the strap of the thong she's wearing. Personally, Mark thinks thongs are silly-looking, and wouldn't be caught dead in one herself. But Edie seems to like them for some reason, and Mark likes the way Edie's spine arches whenever she pulls the lace tight against the smooth curve of her ass, leaving faint red lines for Mark to kiss away later.

“I'll miss you,” Edie whispers, breathless. She's going back to Miami for the break so that she can put in an appearance at her cousin's bat mitvah, a three-day extravaganza involving a luncheon, a cruise on a chartered yacht for everyone in her grade, and a grand finale ski trip in Vail for her closest friends. All twenty of them.

“Don't forget to call me, okay? Let me know that you haven't gone into cardiac arrest from a caffeine overdose.”

“I'll try, but I can't promise you anything. I've almost got the photo album thing figured out for thefacebook. It's so close, I can feel it.” With all the free time she'll have on hand over break, it will be hard enough for her to remember to bathe and eat, let alone initiate contact with the outside world.

Edie pulls away, destroying the precise distribution of their weight on the chair and sending them both toppling to the floor.

“Ow,” Mark says. She hopes the fall didn't jostle anything upstairs. “It's vital that my brain remain fully functional, Edie. I resent your attempts to sabotage thefacebook by giving me brain damage.”

A sharp pain blooms in Mark's shin, courtesy of Edie's foot. “One of these days, I'm just going to drop your laptop out the window when you least expect it.”

Mark sits up abruptly, her eyes narrowed to two slits. “You wouldn't.”

Edie just stares at her, the warmth that was in her eyes only a moment ago now absent. For a minute it's awkward between them. Mark hates these moments, where she feels like there's something Edie's not saying, or maybe she is saying it, but in a language that Mark doesn't understand. Most of the time they just brush it off with a joke or a well-timed tumble on the narrow prison cots Harvard has the nerve to call beds. But it never really goes away.

The tension in the room is shattered when Chris sticks her head in the doorway. She's still in her parka, cheeks flushed red from a combination of the cold and alcohol. She holds up a six-pack and grins at them.

“If you two are done eating each other out, Dustin would like to try and reclaim his manhood by challenging us to another Halo tournament.”

Mark watches the muscles in Edie's stomach contract as she sits up, and suddenly, she wants to slam the door in Chris' face and take Edie apart with her mouth until she makes those slightly pained-sounding noises that always make Mark feel shaky and hot inside.

Edie raises a single eyebrow in Mark's direction. “Wanna stick it to the patriarchy with me?”

“I'm game,” says Mark, shrugging.

Edie climbs to her feet, and spends a few seconds setting her clothing to rights before extending a hand down to Mark.

And Mark, although she is perfectly capable of standing under her own power, lets Edie pick her up.


End file.
